No More
by Jaelijn
Summary: The events of Davros and the missing planets cause the Doctor to reflect on a truth he would rather forget... Tenth Doctor fic. Introspective.


**Disclaimer: **Doctor Who and all associated items are property of BBC. The Doctor's tenth regeneration was largely shaped by Mr Russell T. Davies, creator of the new Doctor Who, and Mr David Tennant. No copyright infringement intended.

**Rating: **PG

**Warnings: **depressive, spoilers up to "Journey's End" (picks up right where that episodes leaves us), allusions to "The Next Doctor"

_More fics from me, thanks to the lovely feedback on my last story (I will reply to all reviews as soon as I have time). Hope you enjoy it - a bit of introspection of the Doctor, I hope it's not too bold - but, I do like to hear your views on the matter! Thanks for reading!  
_

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The Doctor shrugged out of his wet jacket, placing it where the water would not damage any circuits. He really was in no rush – the conversation with Donna's family had drained the last of his energy, and even though he had been deeply touched by Wilfred's words, they had hardly lightened his mood.

He stepped up to the console, flicking some switches that would take the TARDIS into the safety of the vortex – away from all those humans. He was alone. Again. Ah, he had lived too long.

All those wonderful, brilliant humans, living their brilliant, normal lives in peace. He had turned them into something else. Every time one of them came in contact with him, even if it was just a tiny moment, just a glimpse in the crowd, every time he changed them. No matter what all of them said – he could not believe that it was for the better.

He had known already, of course. He had tried to warn them off. He had told them it was dangerous, he had even tried to leave them behind. He didn't need anyone. But that was a lie, wasn't it? He should have told them that all those monsters, all those dangers they encountered in their travels were nothing by comparison – the real danger was himself, and not because he always ran into trouble, but because he changed them.

Did he make them braver, juster, better? No. He took them and turned them into weapons simply by stepping into their lives, and they didn't even notice. They just thought they were being courageous. Over the years, he had become so good at manipulating, they didn't even notice. _He_ didn't even notice that it happened, he couldn't stop himself. Since the Time War, he had come to hate weapons so much for what they did, what they did to him, turning him into a creature of fire and rage, with so little patience and so little compassion. He had tried to stop himself from turning into a monster by refusing to take up weapons, because whenever he did, something horrible happened. His control slipped. Once – oh, such a long time ago – he had tried to kill a Dalek in cold blood, the last of the species, so he believed, eradicated without a second thought. Perhaps he would even have hurt Rose to get at it, in the end. She had stopped him, but then Rose was gone, and he did it again. Again the last survivors of a species, again he had not been able to stop even as the screams of the Racnoss echoed in his ears. Without Donna, he would have drowned in that fury. And now, he had done it again. Well, not strictly spoken _he_, but his metacrisis duplicate, killing the Daleks, millions and millions of them... genocide. He had told Rose his duplicate was like him when they first met, but even that was a lie. The duplicate was _him_, exactly him, with all he had seen and felt and experienced, with all he knew at the moment of the metacrisis. He had been thrown into battle, and given a weapon, and he had killed.

He never took up a weapon because it was the better way, the better moral ground, safer, but instead, instead meeting him turned everyone around him into a weapon. Because he wouldn't fight, all those humans thought they needed to fight for him, needed to protect him, because the Doctor was magnificent and better – he was not. He had never shown anyone the darkness within his soul, and had even tried to forget it himself, but he had always known. He didn't need Davros to point it out to him, but he had seen the realisation in Rose's eyes, just minutes after she had been delighted at the horrible, deadly plans of his other companions. That was what he did to them. He turned them into some sort of _bodyguards_ for himself, fashioning them into a living shield to do what he knew was wrong, so he wouldn't have to burden his consciousness with all those deaths. How many of the people he'd met had died for him, and just how many more were willing to die for him, to fight for him, to kill for him? He knew he had long lost count. He knew that it was almost everyone he met.

No more. He needed to be alone. He needed to keep those magnificent people safe, he needed the keep them away from him to stop them from turning into monsters. After so many years, so many companions showing him what was right, he should have some for of control, shouldn't he? He should be able to manage on his own without destroying the universe and himself in the progress.

There still were the old Time Lord laws of non-intervention, maybe he could stick to them for a while, even though he had never thought much of them... Either way, he would not pick up another companion. Not after he had destroyed all of them in one way or the other. He would manage.

The TARDIS disagreed with him, violently. She lurched, crashing him into the safety railing.

"Wooh, what is the matter, old girl?"

The Doctor was grateful for the distraction, but he had a feeling that the TARDIS wasn't really trying to distract him – she had a strange way of reassuring him sometimes, of offering comfort when he felt horrible. After all, she had known him longer than anybody else – at least, almost. The Doctor patted the column within his reach. "Come now, you know it's the truth just as well as I do. I destroy them – no more."

The TARDIS was a reassuring presence in his mind, vibrating softly under his fingers. It was rare that she intrude into his mind with words, but they communicated nonetheless. The TARDISes and Time Lords were partners for so long now, they understood each other, and the Doctor was certain that his TARDIS knew his soul – even if she refused to agree. _My Doctor._

The Doctor knew exactly what had annoyed her. Rather than changing his companions, the Doctor would change himself. And she wouldn't let him. _I'm sorry, old girl. _

He wouldn't just give up the fight, not knowing that there was still someone who cared. The TARDIS. His former companions, even though they all had someone else. Wilfred, on Donna's behalf. He needed someone, and the TARDIS could be that, but only as long as he was inside. Maybe it was time he built another mechanical companion? Maybe he just needed to stay away from humans for some time, get a grip on himself.

Or maybe not. With a soft thud, the TARDIS had landed, taking him somewhere – and the Doctor had no idea where he was. Perhaps, it was just as well.

He checked the date on the monitor. "Oh, Christmas! Lovely!" _Why here? _he asked the TARDIS, but she wouldn't reply, just nudged him towards the door with an air of reassurance and joy.

His curiosity piqued, the Doctor approached the doors. Whatever had been the reason for the TARDIS taking him here, she had wanted him to feel better about himself. And maybe she had picked just the right location and time.

...~oOo~...


End file.
